I get no pleasure from watching the television shows about hoarders. For most,the shows will motivate them to clean and toss away unneeded junk, making them feel better about their lives. For me, it makes me want to curl up in bed and take a nap. Why is this? My father is an honest to goodness, pathological hoarder and my mother in her codependency has become a willing participant. Growing up in the household, I developed tendencies to want to hoard, but work on fighting them daily.
I’m not sharing this to shame my parents or make fun of them. Although, the fake Christmas tree left standing in June, that my mother will buy ornaments for year round, has become an absurd joke between my sister and I. I share this, because there is a side most don’t necessarily see on these shows. And that is the humanity behind the hoards. What has brought people to live in homes where they literally have to crawl over things to get from one side of the house to another.My father was an orphan until he was five years old. He was adopted from an orphanage with his younger brother. His adoptive mother and father told him often that it was really his younger brother they were looking to adopt, but they just felt heartless breaking up the two of them. Needless to say, being an orphan until that age and having very little in the way of possessions was damaging to his young psyche. His father had periods of great wealth and great poverty and he never shielded his children from his insecurity concerning finances. He was a stern man that approved of very little that my father did.
During a wealthier time, he sent my father to a Jesuit high school in Rochester, NY, which he seems to have fond memories, but it was forced structure which my father needs. After college he enlisted into the Air Force and he loved it. Again, thriving under the strict discipline and structure. It is there, however, that he began counting. He would count the number of steps he was climbing and would have to do things in intervals of even numbers.
He was thirty-five when he met my mother who had two little girls. Our biological father had abandoned my mother, sister and I years ago. My mother married our “new” dad a year later and things were good. Growing up things were fairly normal. He did save margarine containers, coffee cans and those black plastic 35 mm film canisters, but he always put them to use. My sister, little brother and I did all of the cleaning, so that was covered. And as all children do, we all grew-up and moved out of the house.
Well, except for one adult “child”, my brother stayed. My brother, my parent’s only biological child together, was very spoiled and was a wake and baker. He worked on and off and was a generally unhappy person. But he was my mother’s favorite and he could do no wrong in her eyes.
One night they received a call that is every parent’s worst nightmare. Their only son had died from a drug overdose. My mother has never recovered. She is a kind, generous, woman, but she is only living a fraction of her life. She just doesn’t have the energy to give any more than what she gives now.
This is when the downhill slide began more severely. The first Christmas after his death, they tried, they really, did to have a normal Christmas. After-all, my mother loved Christmas. She had her Nutcracker collection (that has become overwhelming) and many antique ornaments that she kept in excellent condition. She used to love buying a new ornament every year for the Christmas tree.
After that Christmas the tree was just never was taken down and has stayed decorated all year around for seven years. Recycling is a great thing for our Earth, but a horrible thing for an OCD hoarder. My father will go ballistic if you toss even a scrap of paper in the trash. There are rolls and rolls of empty toilet paper rolls in his living room waiting for him to squash in just the right manner for the next recycling day. I stopped bringing friends and dates to their home years ago. I ask to borrow things, just to help de-clutter. But it is quickly missed and asked to be returned. They both are pathological collectors and have been as long as I can remember. We had eight cats at one time in a small townhouse. Their coffee cup “collection” is out of control and is contained in three cabinets. Dad still has his college papers in the basement. Forget about cleanliness, it’s impossible.
I know this is an illness, because I know they do not see the mess. They have had people come to their house and my mother has even babysat children in her house. When I ask where I should sit in a sarcastic tone, they clear a spot without a shred of embarrassment. They just don’t see what the rest of would sees.
You can’t close the door to my brother’s old bedroom. It is too full of stuff. There was talk of turning it into a guest bedroom or a playroom for my nephew, but when my Aunt tried to clean the room, my father became enraged and said he needed to go through everything himself. That never happened.
It isn’t clear weather compulsive hoarding is an isolated disorder or a symptom of another disorder, such as obsessive-compulsive disorder. Before early 1990 there was very little research on hoarding. According to Mayo Clinic, “Hoarding isn’t yet considered an official distinct disorder”, as many people who hoard don’t have other OCD-related symptoms. It does appear to be more common in people with psychological disorders such as depression, anxiety and attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. Hoarding behavior is difficult to treat as it is often severe due to poor insight of the patients, in other words the hoarding patient has difficulty seeing their behaviors are a problem. Without this insight, behavioral therapy is often ineffective for successful treatment.
Epidemiological studies suggest that compulsive hoarding may be more prevalent in the community than once thought. Data from the Baltimore Epidemiologic Catchment Area Follow-up survey suggest that 5% of the general population experiences “clinically significant hoarding”, while data from National Comorbidity Survey Replication indicates that there may be a lifetime prevalence of compulsive hoarding as high as 14%.
A large proportion of individuals who hoard report also having at least one “first-degree relative who experiences hoarding problems.” The studies show that compulsive hoarding begins early, but increases with age. It is almost three times more prevalent in individuals over the age of 54 than it was in those aged 34 to 44. It is believed to be a chronic progressive disorder. Stressful life events, such as death, divorce or brain injury can trigger a sudden onset of hoarding. Fifty-five percent of those in the study reported experiencing a stressful life event at the onset of hoarding symptoms. Yet clinical studies have also demonstrated that hoarding also co-occurs with other psychological disorders.
Treatments are advancing and more is being learned of the disorder. Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) for compulsive hoarding, if the patient has attended many sessions, seems to be effective. However, access to clinicians trained for CBT for compulsive hoarding is limited. Drugs are prescribed and show slight improvement for some, but rarely assist in reducing clutter. Overall, several treatment avenues still need exploration.
I don’t know that my parents will ever overcome the disorder. It annoys me more than concerns me, I guess. I said at the start of the article, that I fight the tendency to hoard. When I moved into my last house, and was packing things into boxes, I found I had years and years of magazine recipes saved, that I would never cook. I threw them away in horror. I refuse to save cards or anything sentimental, no matter how hard it is to throw it away. This sometimes saddens my loved ones. Have I turned into the opposite of a hoarder out of a pathological fear? This does concern me. My son asked me for a wedding picture of my husband and me from our wedding. I only have one. Something tells me I might be going too far.
